


What I Wouldn't Give To See Your Ghost

by Triscribe



Series: What-If Star Wars AUs [11]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Depa Billaba Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I felt a need to write something bittersweet and here we are, Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), Space Family (Star Wars: Rebels), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triscribe/pseuds/Triscribe
Summary: “Who are you?” Depa demanded, externally calm but internally frantic. “What is this place? Andwhereis my padawan?”The prone figure groaned, head turning. “...master...?” She stiffened, as familiar blue-green eyes opened, squinted up at her from an aged,unfamiliarface.
Relationships: Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus
Series: What-If Star Wars AUs [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788598
Comments: 13
Kudos: 220





	What I Wouldn't Give To See Your Ghost

_“It’s not much of a lead,” Ahsoka told them, her arms folded as she stood in front of the star map. “But even if the weapon doesn’t pan out, you can make a detour through Hypoxin - one of our bacta suppliers got shut down, but her final shipment is still waiting in the usual drop point.”_

_Hera nodded, eyes glancing over the marked hyperlanes, whereas Kanan focused on a single highlighted planet._

_“We’re certain the Empire isn’t aware of this old temple?” He asked. “I’d rather not be in the middle of dusty halls and get ambushed by Inquisitors. Again.”_

_Ahsoka smiled wryly. “No Imperial activity in the system, and even if this place was once part of the Jedi Archives, those were erased before Palpatine could get his hands on them. But, if you’d like, I can ask Rex to come as back-up...” Kanan waved her off before she’d even finished._

_“He needs this break, and like you said, it might not even pan out.”_

Famous last words.

Kanan could hear Zeb cursing, Sabine shouting, Hera demanding to know what was happening over the comm. Somewhere behind him, Ezra was yelling his name, and more than anything Kanan wanted to turn around and tell the kid it would be okay.

But he couldn’t move. His outstretched hands, despite not actually touching anything, felt like they were anchored in place, and the rest of his body frozen by extension. Except, “frozen” didn’t come close to accurate - Kanan was _burning,_ a supernova rocketing through every nerve, his mind struggling to keep from completely shutting down. The Force thrummed with power, with _anticipation,_ as the artifact in the center of the room continued to shine brighter and brighter.

Ahsoka’s sparse clues pointed to it being a weapon, a tool, not a _bomb._ But when they’d entered the underground room, when someone’s foot triggered a booby trap and the artifact began to glow with energy, Kanan’s first instinct was to throw everyone else back and do his best to contain the blast.

But the expected explosion didn’t come - somehow, the geometric figurine managed to _latch onto him,_ pinning Kanan in place as the power levels continued to grow.

He tried to yell for the others to run, a back portion of his mind catching on the irony of repeated history-

_(“Run, Caleb! I’ll be right behind you!”)_

-and as if it had been waiting for just such a memory to manifest, the artifact started to spin. Multi-colored lights blurred, until the entire room became blinding white. Kanan couldn’t shut his eyes, couldn’t flinch away, couldn’t do anything but stare past his reaching hands, and see his worst moment replayed.

He’d paused on top of the ridge, casting a glance back down, to where a lone woman in robes held back a troop of men in white and red-painted armor. One of those men shifted his weapon upwards, and the woman yelled, turning to put her lightsaber in the way, to block the shot-

But another man pulled his own trigger in her moment of distraction.

Kanan knew each of the following seconds painfully intimately - the blaster bolt would strike her right between the shoulders, followed by a dozen more, until his master laid dead on the ground, and those same men came after him.

But his vision flickered. His fingers twitched. And in a moment of sheer desperation, he reached, and _yanked._

The woman flew forward, pulled off her feet, out of the path of the deadly shot. She somehow crossed the distance to Kanan’s arms in a split second, and with the collision, both of them fell to the floor.

White flipped to black.

-Ghost-

_“...think they’re coming ‘round...”_

_“-still don’t know-”_

_“Kanan? Kanan, can you hear me-”_

Depa breathed in through her nose, held it, and slowly exhaled from the mouth. Then she opened her eyes, rolled and stood in one fluid motion, and ignited her lightsaber in a defensive stance.

The large being who’d been kneeling beside her rose with a curse, but hesitated in lifting his own weapon. Behind him, two teenagers paused in their attempts to rouse another figure on the floor, eyes wide as they stared. The boy looked like a ragamuffin spacer; the girl wore pieces of Manadalorian armor.

“Who are you?” Depa demanded, externally calm but internally frantic. “What is this place? And _where_ is my padawan?”

The prone figure groaned, head turning. “...master...?” She stiffened, as familiar blue-green eyes opened, squinted up at her from an aged, _unfamiliar_ face. She took two steps back, as the other strangers closed ranks around the man - _he’s supposed to be a boy_ \- struggling to push himself upright.

“Easy, Kanan,” the girl murmured, situating herself to support his back. “Hit your head pretty hard on the landing there.”

“Thought- I saw- I _heard-”_

“Uh, yeah,” the boy spoke, glancing back and forth between him and Depa. “Looks like that thing turned out to not so much be a weapon as, a door? I guess? Um. You definitely pulled someone through it, though.”

“Which begs the question, lady,” grumbled their tall friend, a lasat with prominent stripes. “Who in the galaxy are _you?”_

“Jedi Master Depa Billaba.” The words didn’t come from her - they came from the man sitting on the ground, staring up at Depa with a much more alert, more pained expression. “I watched her die, fifteen years ago. And that thing - whatever it was - I was _there, again,_ and I couldn’t just- I had to _try-”_

“Caleb,” Depa whispered, finally lowering her lightsaber. The hair had grown longer, the face sharper, the voice deeper - but that was her boy. Her padawan. The Force still buzzed around them, an unpleasant aftereffect, but as it slowly settled Depa could _feel_ him, could feel a shattered bond desperately reaching to try and reform. She let him in. And as their tie in the Force settled into place, beyond it she felt a similar connection to the boy, and one-way threads reaching to the girl and the lasat and others, and-

-and a galaxy, bereft.

Depa sucked in a shuddering breath, suddenly trying to reach as far as she could, for Mace, for _anyone,_ but the lights that were supposed to be distantly visible across the stars were gone, without even echoes to remain.

_Fifteen years,_ he’d said.

Caleb staggered upright, a teenager under each arm providing assistance. His gaze never left her face, and Depa needed to rein in a slightly hysterical laugh when she realized he’d grown an inch or two taller than her.

“You are not a youngling anymore,” she murmured instead.

“Not so much, no,” he agreed, mouth quirking up in a cheeky grin. And the last of Depa’s doubt vanished.

She moved, and slipped her arms around him, tightening her grip as he hugged her in return. The others drew back just slightly, and someone began murmuring into a commlink, but Depa didn’t pay them any mind. She just focused on her boy, who trembled as he clutched at her robes, and pressed his head against her shoulder.

Explanations were needed. Explanations could wait. The Force sang around them, content in the moment.

And that was enough.


End file.
